


you got me good; i knew you would

by catboyvirgil



Category: Chapo Trap House (Podcast), Internet Personalities, US Comedians RPF
Genre: Angst, Irony, M/M, not sorry to anyone else, sorry to the fym boys, two bros chillin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-06-29 11:54:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19829677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catboyvirgil/pseuds/catboyvirgil
Summary: pointless and long ass userna... · @ByYourLogic·1h| can i still be cool & ironic while i'm in love💬 102 🔃 29 ❤️17.2k





	1. you got me good

**Author's Note:**

> i listened to the phantom thread score when i wrote this

Nothing was interesting anymore. And for Felix, that was a tried-and-true  _ bad sign. _

Nights where the stream lost its luster were growing in regularity; so much that he’d let the boys make a  _ soundboard  _ of him so that more people would watch when he wasn’t around. Something something, socialism, something something. Distributing the wealth, as if social media followers were currency. Regardless, his absence was not infrequent, and that apathy was in danger of spreading to the podcast, too.

//

_virgil:_ Hey man sorry I haven’t been replying

_virgil:_ Just busy with travel stuff. Just got in though

_virgil:_ Brunch???????

_felix:_ yes bro

_virgil:_ Why weren’t you on pod last thurs?

//

It had something to do with patterns. Felix knew, above everything, that patterns were only good for him until they weren’t. Before, breaking those patterns led to him becoming successful in this odd way. What would breaking these new, positive, patterns lead to?

Were they positive to begin with? How much could a podcast, let alone a twitch stream accomplish? Were Victory Royales really the key to solving the border crisis?

His therapist said he had a guilt complex. Yeah, he and everyone else.

//

_felix:_ remember this

_felix:_ _B=m=D_

_virgil:_ Ah yes my favorite math equation  
  


//

He'd be lying if he couldn't point a finger at the root of the feeling: no matter how much you don't want to say something out loud, ultimately you can't erase the fact that you feel it.

Felix wondered if any of it was projection. Having only ever been decent at getting laid in his life, before and after podcasting, Felix had inclinations towards loneliness. Loneliness with a shot of pent-up libido and a salted rim of joke-flirting made quite a cocktail. So yes, when Virgil, his friend and  _ co-worker,  _ said the odd thing about them making out, Felix knew to take it at face-value as a joke. But then there were the other moments that caused the confusion: holding eye contact for just a few moments too long. A friendly arm around the shoulder lingering. Getting just a millimeter too close when leaning in to whisper a particular joke during a movie. Were those jokes, too? Was it just a personality thing? Some people are naturally more intimate, right?

//

It always happens after nights out. Virgil is more tired than drunk, and Felix can tell, but Virgil doesn’t think he can. A nice little game of pretend, they play. Felix felt daring lately, and was in the habit of immediately stripping into a loose tank top, hoping that he could catch Virgil’s eyes wandering. Sometimes he thought maybe he did; maybe it was the light.

This time, Virgil’s on the couch, still in his jacket. His dumb jackets. Felix makes some joke, then with expertise comedic timing, undercuts it by clenching his bicep in just a way. Virgil swats at it.

“Wow, literally flexing?” Virgil laughs. Felix laughs too, realizing Virgil didn’t actually swat his arm, but was in the process of resting his hand on it gently. It held there for a few moments, Felix not daring to look, but still carrying an easy smile.

//

Felix loved watching vloggers, specifically breakup videos. For every drone shot over a shitty trap beat he had to endure, he might finally understand fully what happens to a person when their work life and their personal life overlap completely.

Seeing Adam and Dasha break up was only a taste of the worst that could happen.

So what was the point of trying, then?

//

_felix:_ can we talk about something

_felix:_ pod stuff. feeling weird

_virgil:_ I noticed.

_virgil:_ Dinner?

_felix:_ can i come over?

//////


	2. i knew you would

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the second part

“I’ve been depressed, dude.”

Virgil was sitting, Felix was pacing. The room was lit only by a corner lamp and the window, and the sound of distant traffic filled the silent parts. 

“No shit?” Virgil didn’t mean to joke at these times, it just happened automatically. Something was bad about that--he knew he should take things more seriously, it was just a coping mechanism for him. Yet Felix laughed. Felix always laughed, even when it wasn’t funny. Virgil suspected he did it because he knew Virgil was insecure about it. Or rather, he hoped.

“I know, I know. What adult goes on a _Fortnite_ bender for 14 months?”

“One who podcasts for a living.”

“The easiest job in the world,” Felix said, exacerbated, but still managing to flatter Virgil, “Why doesn’t that make me happy? I don’t have to work. _I don’t have to work.”_

“You do work,” Virgil said, paying Felix what he thought was a fair due.

“Ever since I finished the doc with Jon, I haven’t. I’ve sat around. Gaming. I haven’t even read one of the stupid books you guys are on. I just flip through and make inferences, like always.”

“You hold us together. And you’re the bit guy. We need you.”

“No, man. People don’t listen to us for the bits. My energy is negative. It sucks the life out of the room, out of conversations. I can’t stand the sound of my own voice anymore,” Felix began to get emotional, and somehow Virgil’s urge to improv died down. He saw Felix’s fingers flex, and he recognized it as a nicotine urge.

“Why are you telling me this?” Virgil asked carefully, breathing in, “Are you gonna quit?”

As he said it, Virgil tried to imagine the podcast without Felix. They’d lose a chunk of their fans, he was sure. No more meeting up at least twice a week. No more live shows, nor travelling together; therefore, less excuses for Virgil to surround himself with Felix as much as possible; to laugh at his jokes, to riff with him, to catch glimpses of him in the hotel in a muscle tank. Less of his smell and his mouth that slurred in that certain way, and his eyes.

Felix hadn’t responded. 

“Do you need to quit?” Virgil asked, “Because I really don’t want you to. I can’t imagine the podcast without you. I can’t imagine my life with less of you. Which is selfish but true.”

Felix hadn’t responded, but his expression did change. Less anguish, more curiosity. Now Virgil was the one flexing his fingers, yearning for the smooth plastic of a juul.

“I thought about quitting but I don’t think I can,” Felix finally spoke, just as Virgil’s cheeks started to turn red, “That doesn’t feel right either. And I would miss you guys.”

After a pause, Felix spoke again. “I would miss you.”

Virgil was taken aback at the declaration, so he propelled the conversation ahead to hide from it.“So what’s the solution? To your depression, to feeling like an energy suck or whatever. You certainly don’t come across that way to me. I love being around you--” Virgil choked out a correction, “--dude.”

Felix chuckled again, lower, in his chest. Virgil moved to fuss with his bangs, which caused his jacket to feel extra tight. He took it off, laying it on the side of the couch and trying to relax in just his trousers, socks, and white dress shirt.

“I think the solution, and why I came over here tonight,” Felix said, “Is uh.”

Virgil looked up at his friend, who had ceased pacing. He wore a plain black t-shirt. Jeans that fit… pretty well, actually. His hair was longer than usual, beard included, which was the length Virgil found himself preferring. He was facing away from him at a three-quarter angle, but even from where he was, Virgil could see a calm smile on Felix’s face. It was an expression he had maybe only seen on Felix’s face once before, at brunch after a night out with Nick Mullen; playful, full of mischief, yet somehow perfectly contented.

“Think it’s you,” Felix said, somewhat matter-of-factly.

Virgil wished he had a manual clock in his apartment so he could listen to something ticking. It was too quiet. He focused on the sound of Brooklyn traffic below. Wasn’t as good as a ticking clock, but it was something.

“I don’t know if I’m crazy. If I am, tell me, and we’ll never talk about it again. I can be cool. But I think,” Felix’s smile faded, and a look of insecurity arose. He did, however, turn to face Virgil and even attempt eye contact with him, “I think I really like you. Like… _like_ you. Have feelings for you. Which is weird. But not impossible...for me.” The night out with Nick Mullen suddenly made sense. And also, Virgil felt a ton of bricks had just been dropped on him from the top of the Freedom Tower.

“I think you like me too,” Felix continued, his eyebrows crossing on his face in a way that got Virgil in his feelings, “Which is the weird part. Because I don’t know if that’s possible for you.”

Traffic. Traffic. The sound of traffic. The dim light. Virgil found himself tugging at his collar. Before he could speak, Felix was kneeling in front of him. _Kneeling._

“You okay dude? Sorry if I sprung that on you.”

Virgil looked into Felix’s eyes for a few long moments, then smiled.

“I’m fine,” Virgil spoke.

“Fine?” A smirk, a wink. Felix. So sweet, despite it all, “You ever liked a dude before?”

“Haven’t liked many people in general.”

“Have you _been_ with a dude before?”

Virgil reddened, and maybe not surprisingly, stiffened.

“Nope,” Virgil Texas wasn’t as talkative as he found himself usually. In fact he was barely ascertaining his own speech--his head was in the clouds. But he was sure of everything being said, and was sure of what he wanted, “But I don’t think I care.”

Felix smiled, “Me neither.”

“But I do care that you’re feeling alienated. And I do… want to be a help to you, but I can’t be the solution. You have to help yourself, too,” Virgil said, wanting to get the hard stuff out of the way. He’d rushed too many relationships at this point. It wasn’t worth it. His head might have been in the clouds, but he still knew that he had to get this one--of all the ones--right.

Felix’s smile faded and he looked down. After a minute, he nodded. “You’re right. And I will. But I would… I would like your help.”

“You have it,” Virgil leaned forward on the couch, bones aching to reach out and just _touch_ Felix, to comfort him in some way. Not even kiss or hug but just to…

He reached his hand up to brush his thumb on Felix’s cheek. His instinct was to pull away, as if it was fire, but he let himself linger. And linger. Feeling the bristles of Felix’s beard on his palm, his warm skin on his thumb.

“Virgil,” his name melted out of Felix's mouth in a way he was not used to, and Virgil could taste his breath before he pulled away, smiling, groaning, and bashful.

“This is crazy,” Virgil said, half-laughing, “Should we even do this? What’s gonna happen to… everyone? Everything?”

“I’m more than willing to find out,” Felix was smiling, unaffected by the teasing, and moved to sit on the couch next to Virgil. Leaning into the corner, he spread his arms open in a welcoming fashion, dastardly chest hair peeking at Virgil, _taunting_ him.

“You like my chest?” Virgil choked at Felix’s sudden question. “I think I caught you looking, maybe. Once or twice. A week.” Felix winked again, and Virgil felt almost virginal. But he _wasn’t_ virginal. Virgil Texas fucked. And Virgil Texas got what he wanted.

“Fuck you, asshole,” Virgil grinned, more playfully this time, sliding over, breath teasing Felix’s face again as his hand slid up the other man’s leg.

“Fuck me? We haven’t even kissed yet,” Felix whispered, eyes dancing around Virgil’s face. Virgil felt any latent anxiety he had, melting in the intimate presence of his friend, watching Felix’s eyes.

Felix grinned for a second before leaping forward with his mouth, gracing Virgil with a sucky little kiss. The kind of kiss Virgil remembers giving to girls in theater class; playful, goofy, but with an undertone of reality. He pulled away, leaving them both giggling, but it quickly subsided into another, softer, slower kiss. Virgil’s tongue flicked forward to taste his friend for the first time and was delighted; and as hands began to explore, all Virgil could think was, _Yeah. I could get used to this._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i smoke weed and i don't edit. if there's popular demand i will write a sex chapter. i don't apologize for implied felix/mullen


End file.
